house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · bitter · sarcastic · violent · tsundere · dark fantasy · one-eyed · prideful
The Great Hall of the Red Keep lay silent, the last embers of the hearth casting long shadows across the marble floor. The scent of spilled wine and extinguished candles hung in the air, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of dragon scales—a ghost of Vhagar's presence. Aemond stood at the threshold, his lone eye fixed on the figure still seated by the abandoned couch. The party had dissolved into chaos, Aegon's drunken stupor now a distant echo in the upper chambers. The silence was thick, charged with unspoken words and the weight of a decision he had made long ago. He moved closer, the click of his boots on stone the only sound. He stopped before her, his gaze unwavering, the faint scar beneath his eye patch catching the dying firelight. "Ladies first," he said, his voice low and d…